


summa cum laude

by iniquiticity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Adolescent Trauma in the Making, Anal Sex, Generally Bad But Sexy Stuff, M/M, Power Dynamics, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, The False Narrative You Can Care About Your Student and Also Fuck Them, unexpressed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iniquiticity/pseuds/iniquiticity
Summary: Alex Hamilton knew people tended to think Principal Washington a man of stone, with an unbending will who had goals namedCertificate for National School of Excellence: Gold.He knew there was more. The way Washington looked at him - touched him - was pure heat, like molten iron. Stone came in so many ways.





	summa cum laude

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me on tumblr at [iniquiticity](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com), or on twitter at [@picklesnake](https://twitter.com/picklesnake).

Alex didn’t make eye contact with the secretary as he sat around waiting to be called. Instead his eyes lazily tracked the white and green of his iPhone, finger flicking up to scroll the messages. 

The last one: 

_Michelle Hamilton (1:35PM) Dad’s in Los Angeles and I’m in a two-day seminar in Westchester. I paypaled you some money for pizza - text me if you need anything. Senior year! Exciting!_

__

__

_Me (2:43PM) Thanks, will do._

While he sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair, he wondered which part of the sentence was more ridiculous. Dad, as if Victor Hamilton had looked at him for more than ten seconds at a time, other to ask about his grades and grunt in acknowledgement. Or the possibility that he’d be calling Michelle - Mom, he thought, suppressing the bitter smile - and she’d be able to help out. That was a lesson already learned. Why don’t you look on the internet for it, because no problem couldn’t be solved by hiring another assistant. 

Mostly their texts were an easily designed format you could stick into a computer and come up with a limitless supply of stunted conversation. 

_Dad’s in Bangalore and I’m in New Orleans. I paypaled you some money for chinese._

_Dad’s in Atlantis and I’m in the Moon. I paypaled you some money for sushi._

_Dad’s in a rocket ship and I’m in doing a Houdini act. I paypaled you some money for raw urchin._

He had gotten to _Dad’s on Pluto and I’m on a mission to the center of the sun_ when he heard the door click open and polished shoes on wood floor. 

“Come in,” said a voice from the door. Alex put his phone in his pocket and shuffled past the door, then closed it behind him. He sat in the padded chair in front of the desk and slouched, letting his hips slide forward. Then he looked up and took in his school principal. 

Based on the various conversations Alex had eavesdropped in, people tended to think Principal Washington, who sat across from him, a man made out of stone. The broad shoulders and powerful chest were a wave of unbending will. The thick brow and dark eyes were a fortress, and unreadable as stone; the thoughts in that mind were focused and disciplined on all his assorted goals, the kind that had titles like National School of Excellence: Gold. 

But oh, were they wrong. 

The way Washington looked at him, in his grey t-shirt and the unflattering athletic shorts - oh, it wasn’t stone. It was molten, like burnt copper. Washington’s stony silence did nothing to disguise the way his eyes wandered, the unconscious flick of pink tongue between teeth. Alex shivered under the attention, but he didn’t break his gaze. Here was a man who didn’t leave you money for dinner as he jetted off to any city you wanted to insert. No, Washington took things into his own hands. 

Alex knew the touch of those hands. His adopted parents were plastic people and powered primarily by their credit cards. Washington was wholly human, hot desire and flesh. 

The heat in Washington’s gaze subsided. The man cleared his throat and sat up in his chair, resting his forearm on the desk. 

“It’s the third day of school,” he said, “You’re here.” 

Sure, he’d just heard that voice a week ago. Easy to sneak past the cameras and the gates of Washington’s community. No one saw him, or thought him other than someone’s gardener assistant. People looked past and through him. Infuriating, unless you were sneaking into someone’s house. 

Either way, it was different in the office, with them like this, with Washington wearing the dark gold school ring he wore, in his suit, with the accomplishments hanging on the wall behind him. 

“Hi,” Alex said, and leaned forward in his chair. 

“I expect more from you than to be seeing you here.” 

“Do you?” he asked, a smirk on the side on his mouth. Washington was a strict believer in discipline. That included if you were, say, a wayward student, and he believed you could be improved by bending you over his desk and giving you good spanking until you wept. It must have been tricky, Alex thought, to find students who ached in impossible ways for that. 

Washington folded his arms across the broad chest and looked down his nose at him. Alex bit down on his lower lip and felt himself begin to stiffen. The gym shorts wouldn’t disguise it, and Alex didn’t want them to. Washington liked the way he got hard easy, the way all he needed to do was look at Alex the right way to get him going. 

For a second he thought Washington was going to take his blazer off and let it rest across the back of the chair, but he didn’t. Instead he sighed, and some of intensity left him. “It’s your senior year, Alex,” he said, with unfamiliar hint of frustration, “This is a big year for you. I think we can make arrangements, but it’s important to me you don’t let them interfere with your schoolwork. And that includes PE, which appears on your college transcript.” 

Alex melted back into chair and scowled. Like he had to bring it up, college and real classes and being a senior. Of course he did. That was the kind of man Principal Washington was: responsible to the nines, when it suited him. “My birthday’s in January. I turn 18.” 

Washington quirked an eyebrow at him, as if it wasn’t important, which made him frown harder. Another sigh, and a glance up and down Alex’s body, as if there was something to be admired in the gangly legs and the long fingers and the long hair. “Alex, it’s very important that you do well in school. Good grades can earn you rewards from your teachers.” 

_Teachers_ , Washington said, when of course Alex heard _me_ and smiled. “Yes, sir,” he said, mood brightened by the implication. 

“Now,” Washington said, and steepled his fingers on the desk, “Being the leader of the school, I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed, so if there’s anything I can do to inspire you to new successes, I always want you to let me know. That being said, too many rewards can get in the way of good grades.” Then he leaned forward, and Alex caught the molten heat of his gaze, for just a moment. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, sir,” Alex said. 

“Now, I’d like you to handle yourself appropriately in class, especially in the beginning of the school year. Ok?” 

“Yes, sir,” Alex said. 

Washington smiled. He let his eyes slide, slower this time, down Alex’s body. Took in the lean chest and the unflattering gym shorts and the skinny legs. Alex bit his lip again at the stare, felt the attention prickle heat in his stomach. Washington knew the way to tease him, even like this. Washington _looked_ at him. Really looked at him. God, it felt good.

“Good,” he said, finally, “Dismissed.* 

  


*****

  


In his phone, Washington was called _LC_ , which Washington told him stood for Lucius Cincinnatus. 

_I”m feeling hot today,_ Alex texted. 

_Show me._

_Ĉan you help me apply for this scholarship?_ Alex asked, and Washington gave him suggestions on what people who read these essays were interested in. 

_I’m jerking off thinking about you,_ Alex texted. 

_I am too._

_Can you recommend me to your friends at every school?_ Alex asked, and Washington made comments to deans and hiring managers and leaders of departments. 

_I had a good time when we met on Tuesday,_ Alex texted. 

_I know. I did too._

_What the hell am I supposed to write on this form?_ , Alex asked, and Washington explained about tax IDs and what you needed for student loans and where you could get the documents that you needed. 

_I’m still sore,_ Alex texted. 

_Good._

  


*****

  


Alex heard the click of the shoes long before he actually saw Washington appear in the classroom. It was late; another pointless detention he and Lee knew was for no reason other than to convince him that Lee had power over him. He enjoyed watching Alex write nothing on the pages. It was just to make Alex waste time. So Alex heard the footsteps because there was nothing else, and he pretended not to. He didn't even look up when Washington walked inside. He took him in only for a moment and only with his eyes. 

"I'll take over, Chuck,"' 

Lee cleared his throat. "It's fine, George. I'm sure you have better things to do than look after unruly students." 

"Go home, Chuck. Take a load off." 

Alex hid his smile. Funny, to hear Washington say something like that. Causal language didn't come easy to the man. It always sounded so stiff when he tried to be a normal person. 

Lee cleared his throat. There was a steely silence. Washington had told him how him and Lee didn't get along. How Lee had tried to slander him and failed. How Lee had posted some unfriendly things about him on the internet. Alex helped fight back, even if in secret. 

Then: "Thanks, George. Don't let him leave until he's done." 

"Of course not." 

Alex counted beats. He looked up, finally, and saw Washington right in front of him. His eyes flicked to the camera in the corner of the room. 

"They turn off at 4:30 in the classrooms. Budget cuts." 

Alex grinned and reached across the desk for fabric, but Washington pulled away. 

"What's his reason for your spite detention this time?" 

"He didn't like my paper on westward expansion. You know, genocide, violated treaties, forced Christianization. It's on his desk." 

Washington walked over and picked up the paper. Alex watched his eyes flicked down the page. 

"I know you know exactly what would happen when you turned this in," he said, when he was done. The silence was long but Alex didn't dare interrupt it; somehow Washington's quiet was different than everyone else's. "You knew Lee would be upset, and then you turned it in anyway." 

"I fulfilled the assignment." 

"You certainly did." 

Out of patience, Alex stood and came over where Washington was standing, in front of Lee's desk, with his paper in his hand. He put his hands on his hips and stared up at Washington. 

"So what grade do I get?" 

Washington twisted behind him to put the paper back on Lee's desk. He looked Alex up and down, and then took his face in dark hands. 

"One day you'll be an ass to the wrong person and it'll be at worse than detention. You could get into a lot of trouble, and I won't be there to rescue you. " 

Alex snapped back. A scowl twisted out from his his mouth, and he gave Washington a useless push backwards. "Whatever." 

Washington's hands shot out and wrapped around his wrists. Alex gave a futile tug and glared up at him. "What you need," Washington said, voice dark, “is to control yourself. And if you can't, someone else will have to control you.” 

Alex went rigid, and stared at the broad hands wrapped around his wrists. Washington squeezed - just enough that it hurt. Then, with the quickness that always surprised Alex, he twisted, knocking Alex off balance and pushing him against Lee’s desk, sending desk paraphernalia to the floor. He felt Washington pressed to his ass, the man’s hands now pressing against the small of his back. 

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stop paying attention to the remaining knick-knacks on the desk, at least the ones that he could see in the limited range of vision. 

"No matter what I do or say, you always do this," Washington was saying, behind him. Alex felt hands slide around him, find the buckle of his belt. "And words don't work with you, I've noticed. Threats occasionally, but usually not." 

"Nope," Alex said, and noticed he was short of breath. "You have to punish me for me to get the point." 

"That's hardly ever effective either." 

A jerk and he felt his jeans and boxers yanked down, and the surge of heat that always came with that. Especially here, over Lee's desk, that fucking shitweasel. He sucked in a breath and tried to relax his back as Washington caressed his bare ass, the fake-tender way that he was when they did this. 

"Maybe it'll work this time?" he asked. 

Washington sighed through his mouth, deliberate. Alex tensed, because he knew, and it came just like he predicted: the crack of that broad hand against his bare ass, electric. He yelped and dug his fingers into the edge of the desk. "Doubtful," Washington said, with impossibly cool distance, and spanked him again. 

Alex gasped and felt his toes curl in his sneakers. He pressed his forehead into his forearm, and tried to concentrate on the heat all that sharpness grew in his stomach. Something about this fucked up thing that they did drove him fucking wild. He knew that he was a kid, and it was probably easy to drive a kid wild, but there definitely wasn’t anything like this. Sure he’d fucked around with John, and also Eliza, and Eliza’s sister, and those had been good, but none of them held a candle to how it felt to have Washington holding him and staring at him with all his disapproval or pushing him into a desk and spanking him until his legs gave out. This was the only thing that made his thoughts stop running. Another smack, and this time he chomped down on his lip to swallow down the half-groan that welled in his throat. He didn’t like to give Washington the satisfaction. 

“Excuse me, young man?” Washington said, behind him. He liked imagining Washington in moments like these, rather than looking at him: dark and powerful and impressive, his jaw tight with disapproval, eyes hard. Sleeves rolled up, revealing powerful forearms. 

“Nothing,” Alex managed, after a moment. 

“Nothing what?” 

Alex knew what Washington wanted, and he clenched his fingers into the cheap fake wood of the desk and sucked in a breath, steadying himself. “Nothing what, what?” 

The force of the spank vibrated into his thighs and lower back. He locked his knees to stop them from buckling. 

“Nothing what?” Washington asked again, and Alex shivered under the caress of his palm across his sore ass. He had to focus on breathing and not falling over before he could formulate a response. He knew Washington didn’t like it if he didn’t respond fast enough, and even this felt like so much in his head. He thought of formulating new defiance, but then Washington hit him again - once, twice, a third time, until he could see nothing and think of nothing. Washington hit him again, he was sure. More, a blur, until he could only concentrate on the strength of the desk under him and the heat that vibrated through his body . 

“Nothing, sir,” he choked out, in between gasps, and hitched breaths that felt sharp in his chest. It was delicious to forced into submission, to have to agree. Maybe he was messed up, but there was nothing better than Washington’s ferocity, and the sensation of coming up against it like a wave, and to be sent sprawling into the surf. 

“I thought so,” Washington said. Alex felt Washington’s hand in the back of his shirt, and he was yanked up, and half-dragged, half-stumbled across the room, over to the lectern where Lee sometimes spoke, when he was feeling particularly jackassy. Washington arranged him behind it, put Alex’s hands on the podium so he wouldn’t fall. Then the man walked across the room and came back with a piece of paper, that he put on the lectern, and a pen, which he offered. 

“Now,” Washington said, and Alex forced himself to concentrate on that voice, and get his feet under him, despite that everything felt like jello and his mind swam in the best way, “Your essay. On how western expansion benefited America.” 

Alex felt his tongue in his mouth, tried to formulate the question. He watched, in a dazed kind of way, as Washington began to pick up Lee’s stuff and replace it in the places it had been on the man’s desk. “What?” Alex managed, eventually. 

Washington looked at him from where he was arranging Lee’s dog figurine collection. He was the way he always was: cool, deliberate, intense. “You did hear me say that you wouldn’t leave until that essay was done, didn’t you?” 

  


*****

  


He was in Washington's office again. 

Washington was angry. Not angry in the sexy way that Alex liked, but angry in the way that made something in Alex’s chest leap in a way he decided against acknowledging. Washington had stared at him as he’d been escorted in, not in the lava way, but the fury way. Washington’s mouth twisted downward with understated displeasure. So what if Alex had gotten into another fight in class? After what fucking Jefferson had said about him, and his real mom -- 

Washington sighed a long sigh, and opened his mouth to start, and the phone on his desk rang. 

“Excuse me,” he said. Even something so meaningless surged with his anger. Alex watched him pick up the phone, watched brown irises shifted around in the white of his eyes. Watched that dark brow furrow. 

“I’ll be right there,” Washington said, and put the phone down. He stood, with the calm that always meant he was suppressing rage. “Do not leave.” 

Alex stared at the back of the closed door. He couldn’t remember if there had ever been a time when he’d been in Washington’s office alone. Washington had all sorts of weird feeling about his office Alex didn’t understand, and Washington wasn’t exactly the clearest human ever about enunciating his weird feelings. It wasn’t that Alex hadn’t been here plenty - but it was different without Washington taking up his attention. His eyes wandered, and he checked his phone, and then as he scanned through the next dumb iPhone game -- 

\-- he saw Washington's briefcase leaning against the man’s desk. 

He glanced to the door, and then the phone, and then the briefcase again. Then at the camera in Washington’s office, which Alex was sure hadn’t recorded a moment of footage. How bad could it be, if he was caught? Certainly Washington couldn’t be angrier than he’d been about him slugging Shithead Jefferson during the lunch -- 

He pushed himself from the chair and kneeled down to grab it, then hauled it back into his lap and clicked it open. Unlocked. That was a surprise; he had been prepared to pick the little lock in it, anyway. He felt an undeniable thrill at opening the thing; Washington preferred stony and impenetrable, and this seemed like sneaking past his defenses without him ever knowing. The thing had all kinds of funny pockets in the top, which Alex stuck his hands in. 

He came out with tiny stress ball attached to a keyboard. Some of red color if it had been worn away with frequent use, and if Alex looked he could identify the way the thing must have been crushed, on repeated use, in Washington’s fist. Alex forgot about the rest of the briefcase. He’d given Washington the little apple stress toy in an earlier stage of the fucked up thing that they did now. They hadn't been fucking yet. Washington had only expressed interest in the most deniable and secretive ways. Alex had gotten him the present as an acknowledgement of it. 

_Because you need to loosen the fuck up, he’d said._

_You’re the worst teacher’s pet to ever walk these halls,_ Washington had retorted. 

Washington obviously hadn’t been pleased with the gift at that time, and had rolled his eyes so hard Alex thought they might roll out of his head. But to think about Washington carrying it around with him in his precious briefcase (and actually using it for its intended purposes) made something funny twist in his stomach. It was like Washington actually appreciated the gift. Maybe Washington thought of him when he used it. It was a strange but nice thought in his head. 

He shook himself from the daydream and put the stress ball back in the pocket he’d found it. There were some other uninteresting miscellaneous tools there. No sign not the burner phone they used to sext, Alex noted. Several packs of pens and pencils neatly marked with post-its of some of the teachers in the school, a couple of single rolls of tape. Lots of papers. He flipped through them next. _First Application for Additional Grant Funds Regarding Tax Regulations 453(c)2._ The form was half-filled out and was requesting a fairly substantial amount of money. Washington had written in his precise handwriting how the funds were going to be used: fixing desks, updating textbooks, replacing depleted supplies. 

Under that was paper trifolded that Alex opened. It was a letter addressed to the Board of Education, and it was almost impossible to imagine Washington saying or writing any of the words in the letter, because they contained so much vitriol. Washington railed against budget cuts and government bureaucracy and bad textbooks and his inability to fight against wretched parents and the board of education itself. 

So this was where that anger went, Alex thought, and folded the letter back in. 

Under that was a stapled, rumpled group of papers, left upside-down. He flipped it over. 

_Genocide and Exploration: How Imperialist Attitudes Contributed to the Murder and Subjection of Native Americans during Westward Expansion_

His paper from two weeks ago. His name had been neatly whited out of the header and the bottom of the paper had been cut to disappear the footer. 

A post-it was stuck to his recovered paper: 

_zinn scholarship_  
p statement  
rec from henry  


He flipped through the pages. Washington had made notes about specific passages: _excellent analysis_ and _this is how you construct an argument_. At the bottom of the last page were a list of what he was sure were scholarships.

Alex _had_ just told him that Victor and Michelle wouldn’t going to pay for his college. He stared at the list for a couple of moments, and then carefully rearranged the whole briefcase as if he hadn’t rustled through it. 

A flash of color caught his eye in the process. A picture in a tiny, clear pocket against the wall. Alex didn’t have to take it out to see it - a younger Washington, a little less severe, maybe ten years ago. And a woman - short but sweet-looking, grinning up at him. 

“Huh,” he said. There had certainly never been a woman in Washington’s house when Alex had been there - not only any actual person, but no signs of a woman either, from stray shoes to mysterious lotions. She looked nice, he thought. 

He startled at the sound of Washington’s voice outside the door, talking to the secretary. He slipped the briefcase back next to the desk and slouched himself into the chair, taking his phone out again. 

“I’m shocked that you’re still here,” Washington said from behind him, and sat back down at the desk. “Anyway. About Mr. Jefferson.” 

 

  


*****

  


The tow truck guy gave him an annoyed once over, and then glanced around at the under-lit office. Sad, as far as offices when. Worse at 2 AM, where clearly whoever owned the shop hadn’t yet replaced half of the bulbs in the ceiling. Not even any awful coffee in the coffee maker, and any magazines that might have been around with intention to entertain all locked away in cabinets. 

“You got a phone to call your parents?” The guy asked. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.The tow truck guy nodded at him and then turned, letting the flimsy door close behind. Alex waited until he heard the tow truck rumble to life, crash over the sidewalk and and down the street. Then he walked out of the ratty office, shoved his hands into his pockets, and kicked the wheel well of his car. He wrinkled his nose against the odd grease smell that he could smell this close from it. God fucking knew what was wrong with the thing. It wasn’t that it wouldn’t be fucked, that Michelle and Victor wouldn’t pay. It was only that he was stuck at a fucking shop at 1AM when he’d intended to be going to pick up some weird new drugs. That was the best thing to do over winter break, honestly. It was a fun and exciting challenge to show up and see relatives that cared about him exactly as much as he cared about them, only he did it when he was seeing multiple versions of them. He’d already mastered drunk. High was fun. 

He wondered what Washington did over the holidays — 

Took out his phone. Called once. The number you have called has not yet set up a voicemail box, the robotic voice said. He called again. On the third time: 

“It’s one thirty in the morning, and it’s a school night.” Funny, that you could fuck around with your students and say shit like _It’s a school night._

“My car broke down and I’m on the mechanic’s on Hyde. Come pick me up.” 

“Call your parents.” 

“No, come pick me up.” 

“No. I’m hanging up now.” 

“Come pick me up.” Alex stared into his reflection of the car. He liked playing chicken with Washington. Probably more than anything else, and in the end he always won no matter who actually won the game of chicken. Sometimes Washington backed down - and wasn’t that amazing, those dark eyes showing just a glint of humanity, acknowledging his reason and logic - and well, sometimes Washington won and bent him over a desk anyway, and he didn’t have any complaints about that either. 

“You have two parents that can both do that, and they both have cars.” 

“You know very well my parents don’t give a shit and they’d take my car away if they knew I was driving around at this hour. If you don’t come, I’ll sit at this shitty, dark mechanic’s gas station attendant room all night until they come in and realize I’m here. And then they’ll arrest me, because what could a brat like me be doing here? And you could avoid all that by coming to pick me up.” 

It was cold. He stuck his phone between his ear and his shoulder and used his hand to zip up his jacket. He thought, idly, about all the times he’d never had a jacket, and especially one this nice, and how you could have a jacket like this and, don’t worry, no one still gave a shit. He opened the door to the car and sat back in the driver’s seat. It was just as cold as the outside now, but at least there wasn’t the wind, and the driver’s seat was better than those rickety ones in the shitty lobby. 

He heard the sound of the garage door rumbling open and pumped his other fist. A good chicken victory, if you asked him. He got to sit in Washington’s car and — well, he didn’t know yet. He had some ideas, but Washington could be tough, especially after you’d beaten him once. Alex found he rarely had more than one victory at a time. 

“Fine.”

A click. Alex stuck his phone in his pocket and stared at the window of the car, and then he texted John that his car was fucked up and he wouldn’t make it, and save some drugs for him to get later, if possible. Then he amused himself with whatever free phone games he had. 

An unfamiliar Mercedes pulled into the lot, double-parked, and stilled. Alex watched it for a couple of moments, studied broad shoulders and a baseball cap in the driver’s seat, then got out of his car and walked over. The passenger’s side door was unlocked. 

Washington was wearing a sleek black jacket and had the hat drawn low over his eyes. Alex thought he always looked strange outside of the suits he wore at school. Even though he’d seen the man a couple of times over summer break in different clothes, it still didn’t feel right. 

“Are you going to tell me why you need me to get you, when you know very well the danger of that, and you have two very capable guardians, plus an excessive host of friends?” Washington didn’t look at him as he pulled out. He glanced over his other shoulder to make sure he would hit no one on the deserted street, and drove smoothly. 

Alex took in the man’s profile, the powerful shoulder, the strong cut of his jaw, the heavy set of his brow. He seemed so steadfast there, like no other part of him moved when he turned the steering wheel. 

“No,” Alex said, then caught the flash of brown irises and dark pupils flicking, briefly, in his direction. He shifted in his seat, then sat up straighter. “Besides, the risk is more to you than to me.” 

“I suppose you could see it that way,” Washington replied, not letting on the power of the threat, if he felt it at all, “But of course, such a thing would follow you for the rest of your life. It occurs to me you’d just relish in being the kid in the sex scandal. I hear you’re a great fan of doctors trying to establish what kind of psychological harms you’ve suffered. And certainly you enjoy police officers escorting you places and keeping an eye on your goings-on to make sure no one else causes you such harm.” 

Fuck, he was good. Alex chomped down hard on his lip and gripped the handrest in the passenger side door. He didn’t like the silence; Washington, somehow, always owned the silence. He’d rather go to jail than have a fucking police escort and a pile of shrinks. 

“What are you doing for the holiday?” he asked, finally. 

Washington pressed his wallet to the gate of the community where he lived. It occurred to Alex he’d never entered from this way - usually he went through the area where the gate was damaged but the bushes hid it, and then through there through the shrubbery. Once he was inside, he was someone’s pool boy or lawn maintenance guy, and more invisible than he’d ever wanted to be, besides that moment. 

Finally: “Seeing my mother.” 

It was more clipped than usual, which was saying something. Alex smirked, and looked him up and down. “I bet Washington family gatherings are just riveting.” 

“It’s just me and my mother.” 

“That woman in your photos is dead?” 

Oh, that’d been the wrong thing to say. A flinch flashed in that chiseled face, and hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. 

“No, she’s alive.” 

“Was it your habit of fucking teenagers that convinced her to leave?” 

“You’re very inquisitive tonight.” Washington’s hand went to a pre-set button in his rearview mirror. Inside the garage was the SUV Washington usually drove to school, and many neatly-organized shelves with sealed, translucent storage bins. He closed the garage door behind them, and only then did he unclick his seatbelt and step outside the car, closing the car door behind him. He watched, in the steady way that he did, as Alex came out of the car and stood with him in front of the door to the house. “You’d think when someone makes it so you don’t have to face the parents that don’t love you, you’d be more generous.” 

Washington closed the door behind him, leaving Alex and his hanging jaw in the garage.

When he composed himself — after thinking of Michelle and Victor, and _I’m in the Amazon and dad is in Asgard and giant squid’s in the freezer_ \- and then his mom, real mom — and the flash of foster homes, and orphanages, and dull-eyed social workers — he went inside. It had taken a moment or two, at least enough for Washington to set himself in the pale living-room loveseat with a two-fingers-filled rocks glass on the end table next to him. 

“I fucking hate the holidays,” Alex said, because, that was better than his thoughts. “All it does is force people to pretend to give a shit about other people. Give to the shit-ass Salvation Army when all they want to do is kick homeless people in the face. And family-fucking-gatherings.” 

“The Hamiltons aren’t your favorite?” Washington asked, looking over his shoulder at him. 

Alex didn’t bother to answer. He poured himself some mostly whatever Washington had out and tonic. Washington didn’t drink mixers, but he stocked a full bar, because he cared about that shit. They’d talked about it. 

“Sit with me,” Washington said, and patted the couch. 

The rye burned his throat as he swigged from the bottle, but he suppressed the cough. He took his glass over and sat in the indicated spot. With the hand not holding the drink, Washington drew light fingers over his thigh and the side of his ribcage in a way that made him unable to suppress a shiver. That hand caressing his shoulder, and then taking his chin and tilting his face towards that face — 

He felt his heart speed up. He took a drink, and only coughed a little. 

“Martha left me before because I can’t have children,” Washington said, not letting him look away. “Forward-thinking karmic punishment, maybe. Or perhaps just one of the numerous ways the world promotes incomprehensible cruelty. She does sometimes come to holiday gatherings with me, and I’ve attended them with her, though not this year. And I share your disdain about the holidays.” 

The hand released him, and dark knuckles stroked his cheek, before returning to rest on this thigh. How could it be, that someone just touching him like this could make his chest hot. God, Washington has always managed. He’d wanted the man for years before they’d done anything. He wondered what Washington did - how he studied, if he studied, what he studied - to make sure Alex wouldn’t rat him out. 

“Shit,” Alex said, and looked at that hand, and took another gulp. Then, he put the glass down on the coffee table and took Washington’s hand in his, drawing it to his crotch, where something could be seen there, if you looked. 

Washington pulled his hand away, and Alex frowned. “I said it was a school night.” 

This was easier than talking about Washington’s ex and maybe it would put a damper on the thoughts that threatened below the surface, ones about his shitty adopted family and his dead mother and foster homes and orphanages, and sleeping on the occasional bench. So Alex laughed, half-bitter, and turned on the couch to face him. “I can’t believe you. This shit is so fucked. And you’re here with this it’s a school night shit.” 

Washington took another sip of his drink and stood. “I have zero interest in ruining your first period classes, regardless of my sexual depravities. I have a spare toothbrush for you. Driving you to your house is obviously out of the question, so you’ll stay here. I have a guest bedroom.” 

“First, you have like six guest bedrooms,” Alex followed Washington to the sink, where he set the mostly-empty glass, and then through a hallway with paintings and nice furniture, “And second, I can’t believe you’re putting me in the guest bedroom.” 

“You’re a guest, so you sleep in the guest bedroom.” He opened a door. Guest bedroom it was, with a large bed with cream-colored bedding and a vanity made of some fancy wood and matching bedside tables. “I can give you one of my old shirts to sleep in.” 

“I didn’t sleep in the guest bedroom before. Unless it’s a school night thing.” A pout. “What if I promise to behave?” Because that didn’t sound all that good, recently-considered memories about crappy cafeteria food and -- 

“When have you last behaved?” Washington asked, and pressed himself into Alex’s back, and kissed his ear. 

Fuck, how could someone behave with this, the heat of that strong mouth and the promise of interest and broad hands touching his arms. He put his head back and groaned, grinding back. More interest now, and Alex turned in Washington’s arms and kissed his polo shirt. 

“You’re such a fucking cocktease,” he groaned, and then Washington was kissing him, tongue in his mouth, hands grabbing his ass. It was a long time until Washington let him go, and then he was panting, grinding himself against that thigh - fuck, how that thigh could get him off - and aching. “Maybe it’s you who should behave.” 

“Mm,” Washington smiled that quirk of lips he did, and with effort shoved hands into Alex’s jeans and gave his bare ass a squeeze that was very shortly the only thing holding him up. God, he was even hotter up close. “I make the rules, so I am always behaving.” 

“It’s so good that you’re sexually depraved,” he said. 

Washington chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.” 

“No matter how sexy I look, you won’t fuck me tonight right?” 

“No.” 

“Can I at least get you off?” 

There was a moment or two, and Alex felt the uncertainty of that moment, and so to resolve that he slid his hand down and squeezed the growing bulge in Washington’s slacks. He thought he was so controlled, but no one resisted when someone grabbed your dick. 

“Fine,” Washington said, and lead him from the doorway of the guest bedroom and into Washington’s bedroom. The first time he’d seen it, he thought it was just as elegant as the man himself - dark furniture and unknowable art, sleek in that way people usually tried too hard and overshot. The king-size bed somehow managed to not dominate the room - perhaps it was the bookshelves or the awards or something, but it all matched perfectly. 

Washington walked past Alex and sat himself on his bed. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it into a basket of dirty clothes. He reached for his pants, but Alex was there already, pulling down the zipper and revealing him. 

“You have such a nice cock,” Alex said. It was true. Alex hadn’t seen that many dicks, but he’d seen a few, and none matched Washington’s in any scale. 

“Thank you,” Washington said. 

“I love sucking it.” 

“I love when you suck it too.” 

They drew themselves further onto the bed. Here Alex could get between Washington’s legs more completely, tossing his pants and boxers away. It let him take in the whole of the man, naked and spectacular. A lick that provoked a gasp, and then sat up, pulling himself more into Washington’s lap and grinding back against him. 

"Please fuck me?" He asked, making the most innocent begging eyes that he could muster. God, he didn't want anything more than that big cock in his ass. "I'll do all the work, I'll ride you just like this. You can just lay there and admire how good it looks." He stroked his hands up Washington's bare chest and stroked that broad jaw. From this close he could almost see past the stony exterior, something soft glimmering behind his eyes. 

Finally, he sighed, and pulled Alex towards him for a kiss, surprisingly tender and no less hot. 

"Okay," Washington said, and Alex resisted the urge to whoop with joy. "Open yourself up for me?" 

"Yes, sir," Alex said, and Washington sighed with pleasure. Alex knew he liked the sir bit, and he was prepared to humor him. He threw his clothes onto the floor, then reached over to the bedside table and squeezed some lube onto his hand. This part was easy - he'd been shoving stuff up his ass for ten years now. You got a lot practice on that kind of thing. It was better with Washington watching, too - dark eyes all lust-glimmering, one broad hand stroking his own cock as he watched Alex all spread out on the bed, grinding down on his fingers. 

It was so fucking good to be sexually depraved. He didn't wait for Washington to say he was ready or anything, just crawled over. 

"Wait," Washington said, and reached into the bedside table again, sliding a condom onto him and slicking it with lube, "There." 

"Fuck," Alex said, and then he settled himself into Washington's lap, taking his big cock in his hand and settling it under him. It always felt so huge and hard right here as it pressed into him, and god it was big, and he was tight, and Washington moaned and took his hips. Alex saw stars, gasped as he rocked himself down, felt how completely he was penetrated. This never got old. "Love your big cock inside of me." 

"Yeah, tight little thing," Washington replied, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He only spoke like that when Alex really had him. "Why don't you bounce on it a little, let me see you work for it." 

Sometimes Alex didn't go along with that kind of crap, but this time all he wanted was to get them as connected as possible. His thighs would burn with the strain tomorrow, but it felt so good he get fucked like this. 

"Gorgeous," Washington murmured, lifted his hips to meet Alex's thrusts, and it's so intense in the low light of the man's bedroom, Alex's hands on Washington's shoulders, using him for leverage. Alex never lasts when they fuck - even if he doesn't jerk off, somehow Washington getting inside of him just hits him just in the right way. Washington is always a master making sure they don't get messy, though. No matter what they're doing, somehow Washington is always there to catch Alex's come in his hand or a tissue or, once, his mouth. This time it's his hand, and then he smeared the come-slick hand on Alex's chest, and then once Alex is gasping with the force of his orgasm and the intensity of being fucked, Washington pushed his hips up and pulled Alex down and comes with a grunt. 

"Fuck me bareback," Alex gasped, after Washington's dumped the condom and is panting in bed. 

"No," Washington said, "And shower because you're filthy." 

"Come to the shower with me." 

The blessing of being seventeen, that a much older man could take your cock in his hand in his giant shower and stroke you off under hot water, even though you just came. Alex pressed himself into Washington's chest when they laid down, and was out. 

When he awoke the sun was up and the bed was empty, his dirty clothes from the previous day folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He walked through the rooms and found them all empty, but there was a neat stack of bacon and a bowl with microwave instructions that Alex’s best guess was oatmeal. 

A note next to these items: 

_Exit through the window. Today see me after class._

**Author's Note:**

> [There's a sequel!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780699)


End file.
